One Week Girlfriend(11)

“Yes, I’m Fable. It’s nice to meet you.” I hold my hand out and she shakes it with a disdain that’s palpable, dropping my hand quick as if it’s covered in shit.

What’s this bitch’s problem?

“Fable, this is Adele,” Drew introduces us grimly. “Adele, this is my girlfriend.”

He puts extra emphasis on the word girlfriend, and a flicker of disgust shines in Adele’s eyes. As soon as it’s there, it’s gone.

“Drew.” The man standing at Adele’s side is like an older version of my so-called boyfriend and I’m impressed. Drew is going to be killer handsome when he’s still in his forties or fifties if he ends up looking like his dad.

Something that’s close to affection crosses Drew’s face and he lets go of me to briefly hug his father. But just as quick as he lets me go, he has me again, his strong arm wrapped around my waist and his fingers resting at my hip. It’s a very possessive grip, one that I can’t help but find all sorts of hot, and I need to remind myself that this is fake.

Drew doesn’t want a girlfriend. He doesn’t seem to like girls. Makes me wonder if he plays for the other team.

I shoot a glance in his direction, drink in all that dark hair and those intense blue eyes fringed with thick eyelashes. Such a shame if it’s true. What a loss for us girls.

“Dad, this is Fable. My girlfriend,” Drew says again and this time my hand is shook warmly, though the assessing gaze his father settles upon me makes me slightly uncomfortable. I’m being judged and I know it. I’m used to that sort of thing when I’m at work because hey, guys check me out. It comes with the barmaid job.

But this older man is contemplating me in a way that’s discomforting. It makes me want to squirm and get the hell out of here.

“How was your trip?” Drew’s dad asks once he finally tears his eyes away from me. I almost sag with relief.

“Easy drive.” Drew pauses for a moment. “I thought you two were going to be out tonight.”

“Adele decided she wasn’t feeling up to another country club get together,” his dad explains.

“They have them all the time. In fact, there will be another one later this week, and we want you both to come with us.” She waves an elegant hand and flashes a smile, her teeth straight and white and so disgustingly perfect I want to punch them in and watch them fall out of her mouth. For whatever reason, she brings out a violent streak in me. “I wanted to be here to greet you.”

“Totally not necessary,” Drew mutters, his fingers digging into my flesh.

This is just so weird. No one seems to like each other and there’s this undercurrent of electricity flowing between all four of us that’s downright painful. I saw a bit of affection between Drew and his dad but other than that, everyone’s wary and full of distrust. It’s like they all say stuff but mean something completely different.

Creepy different.

For a fleeting moment, I’m tempted to grab Drew’s hand and drag him out of here. The vibe in this place is that bad.

But I don’t.

“You’re staying in the guest house for the week. I had both bedrooms cleaned and made up for the two of you,” his dad is saying, drawing my attention since Adele is trying to interrupt him.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate,” Adele blurts, clamping her lips shut. Her disapproval is clear.

Drew’s dad rolls his eyes. “He’s twenty-freaking-one years old, Adele. Let’s give them a little privacy.”

Huh. So the stepmom doesn’t want us fornicating for fear we’ll be struck dead by some all-knowing God and the dad is encouraging us to get it on by allowing a private sanctuary for us to escape to.

This is all just so freaking weird.

“Thanks, Dad. The guest house will work out great.” The relief in Drew’s voice is clear and I must confess, I’m relieved too. I don’t want to stay in this house with these people. They don’t seem to like me much.

Well, one acts like he might like me too much, and the other doesn’t want to hardly look at me at all.

“I’m sure you both need to rest.” His dad winks at him. Winks at him and then slaps Drew on the back, sending him a step forward with the force of it, taking me along as well. “Meet us in the breakfast nook by eight a.m. Maria is making her famous omelets.”

They have a cook. I’m totally blown away. There’s too much money flowing around here and every one of them seem miserable or brittle or so damn fake, how can they be happy? I always believed money could buy me happiness. I’m counting on that wad of cash sitting in my checking account to make Owen and I happy for at least a solid three months, though I know that’s pushing it.